EL: I wanted to go back a little, David. It's not quite
the same situation, but it relates to the idea of an artist working on
his own piece later.
David Novros: Um-hum.
EL: I know a case of an artist who saw a piece of his
many, many years after it had been done. I can't tell you how many.
And he wanted to cut a foot (holds hands in air approximately one foot
apart from each other) off the bottom.
David Novros: Uh-huh.
EL: And the owner didn't want him to. How would you feel
about a case like that? And would you feel differently if the owner
was private, or if the owner was an institution?
David Novros: Whsh. There's this story about [Dr. Albert C.] Barnes, you know, __________ [word inaudible], Barnes, the collector.
EL: Oh, right.
David Novros: Barnes Foundation. He was a big supporter of [Chaïm] Soutine.
EL: Um-hum.
David Novros: And he owned one painting of Soutine's. It was of a
boy with his hands like this. (folds one hand over the other) And the
story is that Soutine was having a breakdown, and Barnes suggested he go
to Switzerland. So he gave him a bunch of money and sent him off to
Switzerland to this asylum. And before Barnes left, he said to his
butler, "Look, whatever happens, if Monsieur Soutine shows up, do not
let him in." Because he's always taking his paintings back and wanting
to work on them some more, you know. Meanwhile, Soutine was lurking
around the outskirts, waiting for Barnes to leave; and as soon as Barnes
left, a minute later Soutine was at the door knocking, and the butler
was there. And he said, "Uh, Monsieur Soutine, you know, really, you
know, you're not supposed to come in." He said, "Oh, just for a moment.
I want to look at my painting of the boy. I need to just think about
something." So he came in, and the butler went into the next room. And
while he was gone, Soutine had taken a knife, and he cut the hands out
of the middle of the painting like this, you know. And he said to the
butler as he was leaving, "The hands are a forgery."
(laughter)
David Novros: So, this issue about, you know, how long an artist
can work on a thing after they've done it? I'm really a bad person to
ask this question because – another example. I've been working on a
group of paintings in my studio for about 20, 25 years almost now. And
two of those paintings were sold about 15 years ago to somebody, but I
never finished them, you know; and I've had them in my studio, and I've
continued – I've worked on them almost every day, subsequently. This
guy was patient, and he was patient, and he was patient. And then one
thing led to another, and we had a kind of blowup. And he said, "Now,
look, I'm really fed up with waiting for you to finish these paintings.
I want you to pay me the money that I gave you for them, and that's
it." So that's what I did, you know. I paid him back what he had paid
me for the paintings, and now I have the paintings for myself. Because,
you know, when you are working towards an intention…
EL: Right.
David Novros: …you can't be told by somebody outside when you've
achieved it. You know. Now, retrospectively, that's a different
question. When you've made something, you think you've achieved it…
EL: You've let it go…
David Novros: …and you see you want to change, then I really
think you have to let it go. When you've absolutely let it go. I mean,
if it's in your possession, then I think you can keep working on it
indefinitely, like Cézanne, you know, adding pieces on…
EL: Um-hum.
David Novros: A lot of artists have done that, you know. But that's another kind of neurosis, so…
EL: The inability to let something go.
David Novros: Not to let it go, but the inability to admit that you have – the inability to achieve your intention.
EL: Um-hum.
David Novros: And to still remember what your intention is.
EL: Yes.
David Novros: Be great if you could just sort of, "Oh, what was I
doing? Oh, that's good. I'll take that." You know? But you build up
this kind of history in the work. You know, your own activity in the
work. And it becomes terribly important to you. It helps you get up in
the morning, and go on and do the next thing. And if you cut that off
short, I think then you are cutting short your own experience as a
painter.
EL: Um-hum.
David Novros: So, I mean, it is to your – and I don't know if I'm answering your question…
EL: Yeah, I think you are.
David Novros: I don't think that once a thing has been made –
even if you think you can make it better, quote unquote – that isn't the
issue. It isn't about making it better. It's about achieving – you
can achieve your intention, and make something worse. This is an
entirely possible scenario.
EL: Um-hum.
David Novros: You know, from the outside. From the outside view.
From a curator's point of view, or a dealer's point of view. It
oughtn't to be a consideration for an artist, I don't think.
EL: Um-hum.
David Novros: I mean, I would never want to change these
paintings. There's nothing I would ever do on this one or the white
painting. It would never even occur to me, you know. They were
realized fully when I made them, and now we are just truly restoring.
We're not changing. Do you have any more questions?
CH: I don't.